


on the open road

by peterpiperparker



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Fun Shenanigans, Gen, Road Trips, Secret Santa fic!, brotherly "bonding", the girls are icons, they're trying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 03:14:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28646634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterpiperparker/pseuds/peterpiperparker
Summary: it's the annual road trip, and the annual shenanigans ensue.or: batkids + bad guys also like the scenic route + tired dad bruce at the end
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Barbara Gordon & Dick Grayson & Jason T. & Damian W., Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 3
Kudos: 69





	on the open road

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StormLeviosa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormLeviosa/gifts).



> hiya!! this is my gift as secret santa for jess, or @stormleviosa on ao3 and @storm-leviosa-fanfics on tumblr. sorry it's a tad late, jess, and i hope you enjoy it!!!!

_ “Alpha Squad to Beta Squad, come in, over.” _

Jason rolls his eyes, reaching for the walkie talkie. “What.”

A staticky sigh sounds through the small speaker before Steph’s voice comes in, flatter than before.  _ “We agreed to go by squads, play along, jackass.” _

“I didn’t agree to shit,” Jason retorts. “We’re off-duty, anyway.”

This gets him a harsher staticky sigh.  _ “Put Tim on.” _

The walkie talkie is thrown back over the seat to Tim, who catches it without looking up from his phone. He absently presses the button, saying, “Hey, Steph.”

_ “Why do I even try?” _ Her voice goes softer, as she moves away from the microphone.  _ “Cass, why do I try to have fun around these assholes?” _

_ “Persistent determination,” _ is heard in the background, along with Barbara’s laughter. 

_ “Ugh, whatever. We have to stop for gas, so take the next exit with us or we’ll slash your tires when we catch up.” _

Tim’s eyes never leave the bird flapping in time with his thumb. “Yes, dear.” 

Babs’ voice replaces Steph’s and startles Tim into losing his streak.  _ “Dick, please for the love of god, follow us off this exit.” _

From the driver’s seat, Dick laughs and leans back to steal the walkie talkie from Tim’s defeated grip. “Yes, dear,” he parrots before putting the device back on the dashboard.

Damian huffs behind Dick’s seat, crossed arms going to circle to his stomach more than display his anger. His face seems to have a green tint to it, and Jason glances over at Dick, who’s mindlessly tapping his fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of the song on the radio.

“If that kid loses his lunch, I’m moving to the other car.” Jason looks back at Damian again, as if inspecting a grossly sick animal.

Dick looks up at the rearview mirror for a moment to see Damian roll his window down a crack. “Eh, I think he’ll make it, we’re not far. Plus, I’m sure the pit stop will do him some good.”

Jason gives him a doubtful look, but doesn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he turns and grabs his bag from the floor at Tim’s feet. He knocks it against Tim’s hand as he pulls it back, grinning at Tim’s frustrated groan. “Oops, sorry, Timmers.”

Tim glares, smacking Jason’s shoulder with his foot and complaining about his second lost streak.

“Shut it, Drake, it’s just a pathetic mobile game. It doesn’t matter,” Damian snaps, his head resting against the window now.

Tim wrinkles his nose. “Should someone get him a bag, or…?”

“I’m fine!” 

“You don’t  _ look _ fine.”

“Yes, well, sitting next to you for extended periods of time tends to make a person feel sick.”

“You don’t gotta make it personal _ , _ brat.”

“There’s so much material, it’s hard not to.”

“Oh, my God, shut  _ up—” _

Jason swipes his hand between Tim and Damian. “How about we play the quiet game?”

Tim rolls his eyes, leaning back from Damian and looking out the window, but Damian leans toward Jason with narrowed eyes. “What’s the quiet game?” he asks.

Jason smiles victoriously. “Well, all you gotta do is be as quiet as possible, and the first person to say anything loses.”

“And what does the winner receive? Does the loser get punished for speaking?”

Dick can hear the gears whirring in Damian’s mind at the prospect of a challenge and cuts in as he puts on his right blinker to follow the girls on the exit ramp. “Pit stop, boys, stop plotting.”

Dick gets off the exit and pulls into the rest stop, pulling up next to a gas pump. The gas tank is full and Jason is dragged back into the car before he can escape to the girls’ car. 

As they get back on the road, it’s going as well as Dick can hope: Tim is napping with concerningly loud music coming from his earbuds, Jason is reading a paperback, and Damian is determined to beat the quiet game if it’s the last thing he does. 

He has a good feeling that they’ll be arriving in the next couple hours or so, and the soft pop music coming from the radio boosts Dick’s spirits higher as he drums his fingers along to it.

An armored truck sidles up in the other lane, and Dick watches it in his side view mirror. On a deserted road in the middle of nowhere, an armored truck sticks out like a sore thumb. 

Apparently, the group of armed, masked people have the same thought, because they jump onto the truck despite it going a solid 70 miles an hour.

That good feeling sinks to the pit of his stomach.

“We’ve got another pit stop, guys.”

Jason looks up from his book, raising an eyebrow. “Already? What, does the little punk need to puke again?”

Damian starts to make a noise of indignation, but silences at the pointed look from Jason. 

“No.” Dick throws a frown in Jason’s direction, distracted by the truck that now has three people on top of it. Jason follows Dick’s line of sight and whistles lowly. “We were so close, too.”

Rolling his eyes, Jason retorts, “We could just leave it.”

Damian scoffs. “Of course we can’t leave it.” 

Jason leans over and punches him in the shoulder. “You lose.” Damian lurches forward to retaliate, but Jason just holds his hand on Damian’s forehead to keep him at arm’s length.

A stray hit lands on Tim, waking him up. He pulls his earbuds out, ready to chew Damian out, when the movement outside his window catches his eye. “Well, shit. Guess we’re not gonna make it this year.” He turns and grabs the nearest suitcase, pulling their suits out and passing them around with a yawn.

Damian shuffles around awkwardly to put his suit on in a moving vehicle, but the other three put theirs on with little trouble.

Tim reaches forward to grab the walkie talkie from the dashboard, saying, “Code A.S.O.U.E.”

_ “Ah, shit, really? Already?” _ Steph’s voice sounds disappointed but resigned.

“What kind of code is that?” Damian asks, looking between his brothers. No one gives him a straight answer. He’s displeased.

“I liked this car,” Dick laments under his breath, preparing to cut the truck off course. 

He swerves to drive the truck off the road, pulling both vehicles to a sudden stop, with the girls pulling up behind them.

The vigilantes of Gotham City exit the two cars, with Oracle’s eyes on every angle thanks to both her position and the cameras around the armored truck she hacks into within seconds.

The robbers are taken down in a matter of minutes, Damian sneering at the incompetence of their adversaries. Jason scuffs the kid’s head to move away from them before he can make a comment, knocking out the tied-up would-be robbers once he’s sure Damian is preoccupied.

Dick turns to the car, only to see an armored truck sized dent in the passenger side. He groans, dragging himself to the driver’s seat and trying to start the car. It doesn’t even lurch.

“Don’t worry, Dick. Bruce’ll get you another car, I’m sure,” Tim says, leaning against the not-utterly-destroyed car door. 

Dick looks up from the dangling steering wheel in his hands. “Tim, we haven’t made it once on these road trips. Not  _ once.” _

Tim grimaces. “Yeah, we don’t have a great track record.”

The girls’ laughter floats over from their car, which doesn’t even have a scratch on it. Steph pauses before hopping in the passenger seat. “Better luck next year, boys! I’ll send you a postcard from the Falls!”

Dick and Tim grumble while Jason just glares at them, Damian watching on in confusion.

“Next year I’m riding with them, I don’t care what puppy dog eyes you pull on me,” Jason says, finger pointed at Dick.

Dick pouts, sending a text for Alfred to pick them up from wherever they are in Fuck-All, Pennsylvania.

“You haven’t made it to the end of a road trip? Ever?” Damian looks from Dick, to Tim, to Jason. They all shake their heads with varying degrees of defeat. “Then what’s the point of going every year?”

“One year we  _ will  _ make it,” Dick says strongly.

Jason cuts in, “Yeah, I’ll make it next year, when I go with the girls, who have made it every time without fail.”

“Plus paid leave,” Tim adds, ignoring Jason for tapping on his phone. He gets three glares in response.

“You’re a trust fund kid.”

Tim just shrugs, just continuing his game of Flappy Bird.

Dick, Tim, and Damian walk into the manor with their still-freshly-packed suitcases. Bruce sits at the kitchen table when the boys go in for a cheer-up meal. 

“So you didn’t make it this year, either, huh?” Bruce doesn’t look up from the report in his hand.

Dick sighs into his lasagna. “Nope, not this year.”

Bruce grunts. “How much do I have to pay in car damages this time?”

Tim looks up from his plate. “Oh, it’s totaled. Wouldn’t start.”

Another grunt. “Of course it is.”

“But hey, I finally beat my high score in Flappy Bird.”

Dick chuckles. “It’s the little things, I guess.”

“Maybe next year, boys,” Bruce says, grabbing his laptop to start looking for a new car.


End file.
